


the way she shows me i'm hers, and she is mine

by aliensroutthere



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x06 The Iron Throne, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:46:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensroutthere/pseuds/aliensroutthere
Summary: Arya muses over the fate of the Six Kingdoms, and is interrupted by a familiar face.





	the way she shows me i'm hers, and she is mine

**Author's Note:**

> the finale really was bad enough to get me out of my two-years-long case of writers block? wow
> 
> have a gendrya ending because they (and we) deserved better than Arya "the pack survives" Stark abandoning her family and home for the Western seas.
> 
> check out my tumblr! you'll find me at alientitties.tumblr.com

They had crowned Bran king.

Bran, her brother, who had loved to climb, whose legs had been shattered because of it. Bran, who had gone North of the wall. Bran, who could apparently see everything that is and ever was. Bran, whose personality, Arya suspected, had disappeared the moment he became the Three-Eyed Raven.

King. Of the Sev- Six Kingdoms.

Arya wondered why Tyrion had chosen Bran. She thought perhaps Sansa would take the crown. Sansa would have been a good Queen, Arya knew - far better than Cersei could have ever dreamed of being. Maybe better than Daenarys could have been, though now they would never know. 

But would Sansa have accepted? Arya’s thoughts drifted, wondering who else could have been crowned.

Jon, maybe, if they could have managed to get him to accept it. Though Arya knew that both her brother and the Dragon Queen's commander Grey Worm would have fought tooth and nail against it. 

_Gendry._ It always came back to him, Arya mused. King Robert’s legitimized son. He would have had a strong bid for the throne, stronger than Bran’s. If he had wanted it, he would be King right now.

But she knew he would never want the throne. She knew he didn’t even want to be a lord.

Arya’s musings were cut short as the sound of footsteps behind her became apparent. Arya spun and drew Needle, already in a fighting stance before she could see a face.

“Hey!” the figure raised their hands, and Arya relaxed at the familiar voice. _He should really know not to sneak up on me by now_ , she thought, and almost smiled.

“Sorry, _My Lord_ ,” she said, sliding Needle back into her belt. “Habit.”

Gendry snorted, lowered his hands and came closer. “I wasn’t trying to sneak.” He came to stand beside her at the end of the dock, watching the waves of Blackwater Bay lap against the wood of the dock.

Arya glanced at him, trying to remain discreet. Someone had found him clothes befitting a Lord, and he cut an impressive figure dressed in his fine tunic and breeches. She noticed his cloak, though plain, was held together by a clasp with a stag on it.

He looked _good_. Better than good.

She was happy for him, truly. Kingship or no, Gendry deserved all the comforts the world could give him and more, even if he would not accept them. Even if his title meant he now had a home, that his home was no longer her.

She looked to his face and found his eyes on her, and had to fight a smile.

“What will you do?” He asked, his beautiful eyes not leaving hers.

Arya hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said, breaking his gaze to look at the Bay behind him.

“Your list is done, isn’t it? Everyone on it has died,” he said, and she met his gaze again to find his eyes troubled, as if his mind was elsewhere.

“I-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. Arya looked at him, confused. “I should have known better. I know you’re not a lady. I can partially blame the wine, but I know you better than to ask. I know you love your freedom and I never meant to restrict that,” he said in a rush. Arya’s eyes widened, and he continued. “What I meant to say, was that this is new and confusing and I am afraid. It’s true I know nothing about being a lord. But that’s not something you would have to worry about. You aren’t a Baratheon. I’m sorry if ruined things.”

Arya looked at him as he refused to meet her eyes, and knew he would let the matter rest at this. If she said nothing, Gendry would accept her refusal and her rejection, and leave her be, she knew. Gendry had always put her needs before his, wine-induced proposal notwithstanding.

Her silence was making him nervous, she knew, so Arya took his hand. His gaze snapped from anywhere-but-her to their hands as she laced their fingers together.

“Stupid,” Arya whispered, and he finally looked at her. “I don’t know how to be a proper Lady. I’d be terrible at it. Just ask Sansa.”

Gendry chuckled, and squeezed her hand. “Aye, you would. No more terrible than me at being a Lord, though,” he smiled, and this time, Arya couldn’t fight a smile of her own. They stood for a moment, hands entwined, before Gendry spoke again. “No- Not a Lady. But…” he trailed off, and Arya dared to hope she knew what he would say next.

“If I asked you to be, to be my family,” he said, and Arya’s heart leapt to her throat as he continued. “I don’t know how it would work, with titles and such, but I did mean it when I said nothing would be worth it if you weren’t with me.” Gendry’s eyes were so full of love that Arya thought she might drown in them. Gendry lifted his free hand to cup her cheek.

“So be with me. Be my family?”

A small part of Arya, a part that wasn’t Arya, but was No One, was screaming at her to _r_ _un, run away, for no one can not ever be a wife_ , but for once she found it surprisingly easy to ignore the voice.

“I don’t know how to run a household, and I don’t care to learn” she said quietly, and Gendry nodded. “That’s okay. I don’t know how to use a sword,” he replied, and Arya looked at him incredulously. “That’s not even in the same realm as running househol-”

“I’m saying it doesn’t matter!” Gendry cut her off, his eyes pleading. “None of it matters. Nothing at all. Just you. That’s all I want. Not a proper lady, not anything except for you.”

Arya briefly wondered if what she felt was her heart stopping entirely, because there was no way she could love a man this much without her heart bursting out of her own chest.

“Gendry,” she sighed, and covered his hand on her cheek with her own. “All I have _ever_ wanted was for us to be family.”

Gendry looked at her as he drank in her words, before sweeping her into his arms, pulling her close. Arya laughed and wound her arms around his neck as he spun her around, relishing in his own laughter as they spun, carefree on the dock.

He set her down after a moment, still close in his arms, and Arya pulled him down to kiss him sweetly. He deepened the kiss, bringing her impossibly closer until there was no space between them at all.

Arya savoured the feeling of his mouth on hers, of his arms around her, of feeling so incredibly happy for once - she could not describe it.

After a few moments - or weeks? Maybe months, maybe years, Arya did not know - Gendry pulled away. Arya chased his mouth as he moved, and he laughed again, coming to rest his forehead on hers.

“Now, you’re my family _and_ my lady,” he grinned.

She scoffed. “I’ve always been your family, stupid.” Gendry rolled his eyes, and Arya’s heart melted a little bit.

“You’re more than that, Arya, you know it,” he said, and she cupped his face in her hands, revelling in how he was hers, how she was his.

“You’re my home.”


End file.
